The Map Never Lies
by ljp
Summary: What went on in Remus’ head on his way to the Shrieking Shack during PoA. Mostly streamofconscience.


Disclaimer: Do not own Sirius, Remus, anything to do with Harry Potter and the like. JKR does, and she's more awesome than I am.

Pairing: implied Sirius/Remus, so if you don't like that, go.

Summary: What went on in Remus' head on his way to the Shrieking Shack during PoA. Mostly stream-of-conscience.

**The Map Never Lies**

By LJP

Remus Lupin wiped the last dregs from his cup of tea and tugged the corner of the map toward him. He watched three sets of footprints – Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley – hurry into Hagrid's hut. He breathed out, the tea still bitter at the back of his throat, and shook his head. The third years knew better than to leave the castle this late, especially with – he couldn't think it – but they were with Hagrid. That was okay. It was because of that hippogriff, and that made – Remus leaned in closer to the map.

It couldn't be. That was impossible/ Peter was dead. But – the map never lies. He closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, Peter's name was still on the map and Sirius had joined them – Sirius! Sirius and Peter, then that would mean – no, Sirius would have told him; he was sure of it.

He stood up too quickly and both the chair and the teacup clattered to the floor, the latter shattering. He pulled on his shabby, worn coat, and hurried out the door.

There was only one explanation – no, there were several explanations, but only one that made any sense if Peter was alive. No, only one he wanted to believe if Peter was alive.

He tried to think back to the weeks leading up to that fateful Halloween, but twelve years of suppressing the already clouded-with-disbelief-and-firewhiskey memory made it difficult. He and Sirius had lived together, yes, but they'd hardly seen each other, not in those last weeks. He'd been working at a Muggle university, researching, and Sirius was always off on some adventure he'd said Dumbledore had sent him on. Remus had had no reason to suspect otherwise, for none of them ever discussed Order business. They'd stopped eating together, even stopped sleeping together, but they were busy, their relationship old, familiar.

Remus limped sideways down the hill to the Whomping Willow. He didn't think anything of it until that night – Halloween. 1981. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky, Remus could remember. One of the few things from that night. The cloudless sky and Sirius' stormy eyes just before midnight, just before he killed Peter. No, Peter was alive. The map never lies.

He stilled the tree and crawled into the passageway. If only he had followed Sirius that night instead of standing, dumbstruck, in the middle of the kitchen, Sirius' incoherent, irrational ramblings echoing in his head. "Peter – the rat – James, Lily – Harry, with Dumbledore – his aunt – damnit – kill – Voldemort – killed, dead. Die." If only had had listened for between the lines, for what Sirius was trying to say. If he had apparated alongside Sirius. He hadn't. He'd waited for any news.

Sirius was the secret-keeper. James and Lily had to be safe. Sirius had just had too much to drink, too much firewhiskey. He would be back and they'd tumble into bed for the first time in a month but – but no, that's not how it happened.

When Mad-Eye arrived the next morning, Remus had been up all night, waiting. Sirius went to Azkaban. Harry, safe, with Lily's sister. Not with Sirius. Sirius was in Azkaban. In Azkaban. Sirius. Not coming back. Murderer. In Azkaban.

The dark tunnel was suffocating. Sirius was upstairs. No, men went mad in Azkaban, but here Sirius was, upstairs. Upstairs, with Harry. And with Peter, who was dead. But he wasn't dead. The map never lies.

What had Sirius said that night? It was a blur of noise in his already tired mind. He leaned heavily against the cold dirt. Gray eyes. Peter – kill Peter. Why kill Peter? James and Lily were dead. Dead because of Sirius, but he wouldn't. Kill Peter too? Off them all? Left Remus alone, cold – Sirius wouldn't – Remus had known. That's why Sirius was the best choice. Sirius would never betray his friends. He'd have died first. As good as dead in Azkaban, but now – upstairs.

Remus couldn't breathe. His chest hurt, his heart pounding wildly. His head hurt. Why hadn't he asked the right questions?

Sirius was upstairs and Peter was alive and Peter had – Peter must have – Remus choked and gasped in the stuffy air. Sirius hadn't after all, but now he was going to do it, and die if caught for James and Lily like he always said he would. But Remus didn't want Sirius dead – Azkaban he could handle, because that meant Sirius was still on this earth, still breathing, still a part of him. Now – he struggled to climb into the shack. He cringed at the clawed floorboards, at the gnawed-off chair legs. The dank, familiar air made him shudder. A board cracked under his heel.

When the kids yelled for him, he didn't think he'd get upstairs quickly enough. If he saw Peter, he'd believe anything. The map never lies, right, never lies. If Sirius' eyes met his, he'd understand. In the bedroom, Harry had Sirius by the neck on the floor. Sirius, whose hair was too long, stringy. Sirius, whose robes were filled with more holes than Lupin's. Sirius, who looked starved half to death. Sirius, whose gray eyes filled with relief – worry, too? – at Remus.

His throat swelled, and he had the kids' three wands in his hand before he could realize he'd cast a spell. Sirius pointed at Ron, no, at Ron's rat. At Peter. Alive Peter. Struggling, frantic, trying to get away, Peter. But if Sirius – why would Peter – why would he be a rat, struggling – ?

Remus clasped Sirius' hand tightly and when he was on his feet, hugged him like he'd never let go again. It felt natural, so twelve years ago, and if Hermione hadn't screamed, hadn't objected, accused, Remus was certain he and Sirius would have had a proper reunion. But there was too much to explain, so much that Remus didn't even know. Reunions would have to wait, while explanations were given, but contact – Remus needed the contact.

Remus wasn't listening to himself or Sirius or anyone, but he kept his palm spread on Sirius' sharp spine, and his hand burned. He had seen the truth in Sirius' clear eyes – men went mad at Azkaban – this was real, happening, and the truth wasn't what Remus thought. The truth was Sirius was here, touching him, and Peter was alive, frantic and alive and the traitor and – the map never lies.

Fin.


End file.
